A Crooked Kind of Fairness
by PineappleSociety
Summary: "How did your brother end up becoming Amon?" Amon was only meant to be a psuedonym, a false identity to hide his past. But it became the catalyst of the events that turned a farfetched dream into a terrfying reality. These are the dreams, the tragedies, and the lies that turned Noatak into Amon.
1. Psuedonym

_Story takes place between the start of Legend of Korra and the end of Tarrlok's story about the origins of Amon. Will be multi-chapter._

Noatak's figure was beginning to meld with the rapid swirl of violent snowfall as he ran. A tiny voice, ragged with grief and desperation, screamed out behind him.

"Noatak! Come back!"

The words make him want to turn back, to grab his little brother's hand and assure him that where they would be going together would bring a new life, better than the one they were burdened with. Wherever that was. But Noatak did not stop.

"_Please_!" begged that pathetic voice.

With a huff Noatak began to run even faster. The snow was thick and blinding, but Noatak's eyes, in actuality, had at last been opened. Opened to the truth of the true evil of bending.

Perhaps his brother had been right about the agony of being Bloodbent upon; he would never know. His father's bitter anger had become Noatak's burden, like a slave tasked with executing every wish of a cruel master.

Not anymore.

"_NOATAK!"_

Bleary eyed and tousle haired, Noatak ignored the sound of his name as it escaped from Tarrlok's lips one last time. The noise carried out briefly before being swallowed by the screaming wind.

It would be twenty-six years before it was ever said again.

Three long days rolled on, filled with nighttime travel so as not to be detected by anyone. Noatak slept in self-prepared snowcaves, often forced to Bloodbend on his own hands to warm them. He had a goal, however; he needed to leave the Northern Tribe and start a new life. He couldn't bear, especially after his flee from home, to be faced by his father again. It would be humiliating; failed rebellion was the most shameful of defeats.

But his father wouldn't look for him for too long, and certainly wouldn't be willing to search the globe for him. He was graying fast, after all, and as for his dream of revenge, he still had Tarrlok. There was no place in the Northern Tribe for Noatak anymore.

And so on the third night he left it for good.

A canoe abandoned on the docks was his getaway; Noatak lay in his meager vessel's bottom beneath the two small wooden seats, totally undetected. He looked to all to be a canoe whose owner had been too careless so as to properly tie his boat to the docks.

It didn't matter to Noatak where the canoe took him, so long as it wasn't home. He kept on the down-low, occasionally using Bloodbending to capture a fish to eat. As he lay on the rough boat bottom, Noatak was granted plenty of long hours to think.

As much as he despised his father, Noatak couldn't help but pity the man. After all, his father was so emotionally depraved without his bending, so wrecked, so ruined, that it had warped him into a corrupt revenge machine. Yakone had become so hungry for vengeance that he had gone mad, like a starving, tied-up polar bear-dog. And then a thought occurred to Noatak.

If his father had never been a bender at all, would he have been nurturing and loving to Noatak and his brother, like their mother had been? It certainly seemed logical. Bending was the root of his father's evil.

Come to think of it, it translated to other issues too, past and present. If not for bending, would the Hundred-Year War have occurred at all? The Fire Nation had, after all, been determined to share their "greatness" with the entire world. They'd destroyed an entire nation of innocent benders, and to this day only two of these benders were alive; Avatar Aang and his son.

Without bending there wouldn't be nations at all; the entire world's people would be equal and therefore they could exist together. There would be no need for an Avatar to make the rest of the world feel inferior. There would be no Avatar, because all of the world would be in balance anyway. The entire world's people could be united under one leader who would keep things equal.

Noatak sighed heavily. _If only_.

He bent a fish out of the water, and a second later he felt sickened with himself. His vision for the world needed to be honored if it was ever to come true, and he supposed it would need to begin with him.

It took Noatak a week, but he eventually landed on the northern shores of the Earth Kingdom. However, traveling by foot would simply not do. It would take him far too long to get from place to place. He had exactly 78 yuans in the pockets of his parka, an allowance he had earned from his mother over the years. With this money he traveled to a breeder who was selling ostrich-horses.

The breeder introduced him to two young adult ostrich-horses, pre-trained and ready to be ridden by a new master.

"What're their names?" Noatak asked the man.

"The girl here, her name is Maiba. And the boy is Amon."

"Amon, huh?" Noatak asked, intrigued. "That's an unusual name."

The breeder chuckled. "Thank you, young man. This young fellow was the runt of his litter, but he grew stronger, and he was always fighting to be treated fairly. So we gave him a name that means equal-Amon."

Noatak smiled faintly. "I like that."

He rode each ostrich-horse before finally choosing Maiba. Her temperament was much more kind and reliable than Amon's, and she seemed to like him more.

Only one problem remained; Noatak was very obviously Water Tribe, with his blue parka and seal-skin boots. With all his remaining money, Noatak purchased a traditional Earth Kingdom boy's outfit.

The tailor glanced up at him. "Thank you for your purchase, sir. We traditionally sew the name of the outfit's owner onto the inside, in case it is ever lost. Would you mind telling us your name?"

Noatak paused. Even though this man could tell he was Water Tribe, he would need an identity that hid his true origins along with his clothes. An identity that truly defined him and what he wanted in life.

"Amon."


	2. White Lies

A simple village slept soundly under a black blanket flecked with white. The morning's snowfall glittered in the dazzling moonlight, marred occasionally by footprints of all sorts and patterns. However, no one was awake in the village to take a good look at them. If they were, they would have seen a troubled Noatak in the trees, presuming they looked hard enough.

Noatak waited, silent as the fallen snow on the earth. He could not be detected. His plan would have to go perfectly for his lofty goal of going past unnoticed was to be realized. Noatak needed money, more elements to his disguise, and he needed some sort of unsuspicious weaponry. Plainly put, Noatak was about to steal.

He slid down the tree trunk and placed his feet in the large footprints beneath him. He would be stepping in pre-made footprints so as to raise less suspicion amongst the citizens when they awoke. There were two houses he could reach with relative ease by walking in the footprints, one of which was a mere twenty-something feet away. Noatak decided he would aim for that.

With time and patience, Noatak reached the front door and turned the knob with agonizing slowness. He had to make sure no one awoke, certainly, but he also needed to leave in a hurry.

His eyes fell upon a large bag, green with yellow trimmings and embroidered with the Earth Kindom's emblem. It certainly looked promising. Not bothering to check its contents, Noatak slung it over his torso satchel-style, trying and rather succeeding to cast the impression that this bag was his by purchase.

And with that, he bolted out the door in a flash.

Noatak waited until the following evening to open the bag. Leaning against Maiba, who was dozing lightly in the shade of a willow tree, he inspected the contents.

There was a smaller, leather sack inside of the bag. Shaking it, he discovered to his glee that it was filled with money. Noatak grinned, shoving the money back to the bag. His fingers brushed against a box and he pulled it out. The box was wooden and oblong, with two gold latches and the symbol for beauty on its top in the same color. Noatak unlatched it and discovered that it was filled with makeup at its bottom, and the top half bore a mirror. With a scoff he threw it back in his bag, mildly chagrined at the useless object.

Noatak happened next upon a second, circular mirror about the size of his hand. It bore unusually sharp edges, and there was a thin crack in the center. Noatak smiled at this discovery; it may serve as a weapon, like a small dagger. The final object was a small portrait of Fire Lord Zuko in what appeared to be his early twenties. He laughed a little at this; apparently the woman who had owned this bag was enamored with the Fire Nation leader.

Noatak studied the picture. He had learned in school that Fire Lord Zuko had been given that burn scar of his at around the same age that Noatak was now.

'_Did anyone ever pity Zuko for his burn?' _wondered Noatak. And then he remembered that Zuko had always traveled with others of his nation who knew him well. Certainly none of them pitied him, for they knew who he truly was and had to deal with his raging temper constantly.

But with a scar like that, the mere story of being burned by a ruthless Firebender would render many people into empathizers of yours. It was a wonder, Noatak concluded, that Zuko never tried that.

That night, Noatak's dreams were awful and haunting…

_He was Bloodbending with Tarrlok and their father again. One of the fox-wolves they were bending upon had not been ensnared in Tarrlok's grip and was now attacking their father…_

_But neither he nor Tarrlok made any move to free him._

"_ENOUGH!" shouted the man, and his yells expelled a burst of hot fire from his mouth right at the fox-wolf. Fur singed, it fled, whimpering and tail between its legs…_

"_Do you see what I did?" cackled their father. "I showed that beast FEAR."_

_He laughed darkly at this, a horrifying display of true heartlessness. And then he stopped abruptly and fixed his eyes, icy with hate, at his two sons._

"_How dare you be so weak as to not defend your own father?" he bellowed, fists clenched like steel traps in fury._

"_I'll teach you a lesson you won't soon forget!"_

_Their father's fists were ablaze; two orbs of fiery heat hurtling at Tarrlok. Tarrlok's parka was immediately incinerated as he doubled over in agony, the wind knocked entirely out of him. But the barrage of fire would not stop…_

_Noatak made to save his brother, but his feet would not obey; they stayed right where they were, forcing their master to watch Tarrlok's agonizing demise. And then his father turned to Noatak._

_Those burning hands got closer and closer, and Noatak was totally powerless to him; paralyzed by fear as his face was met with the hottest of pain…_

Noatak awoke with a start, panting heavily. He instinctively reached up and felt his face. It was free of any burn marks, as were his limbs, but his face was greasy with sweat and tears. Maiba was awake now, and he licked at her master's head in concern.

"It's okay, Maiba," Noatak whispered, rubbing his carrier's muzzle, "I'm alright. I just had a bad dream."

Maiba made a noise at him.

"I just…in the dream my dad was somehow a Firebender and he…he burned my face. Just like Fire Lord Zuko."

Something clicked inside Noatak's mind then. He recalled his musings from earlier in the day about the Fire Lord. Zuko had not drawn attention to his injury, but now that Noatak had dreamt of the fear that Zuko must've felt at having his face burnt, he had the basis needed for a story even better than Zuko's.

In his dream he had lost his brother, the member of his family he was closest to. And if his dream for equality was to come true, perhaps this one could too, in a way.

Noatak reached into the bag and pulled out the woman's makeup kit. Opening it, he stared at his face in the mirror before reaching for one of her brushes.

Just because Zuko was too stupid to gain pity and therefore supporters through his burn, didn't mean Noatak would be.

Every day, Noatak redid his "burn" mark. He began to perfect it, improving each little detail of the so-called wound until it truly looked as though a firebender had destroyed it. He began to work on a story to match it every time he worked on it.

"A Firebender accidentally damaged my family's farm-I got burnt trying to put out the fire" became "My brother found out he was a Firebender and got careless practicing." This became "My father was a Firebender and he abused my Earthbender mother; I got my scar when I stepped in to save her."

Sure, it was juicy. But it needed more…pop to it. And so the abusive husband story became "My father abused my brother and mom because they weren't benders like him; I got burnt when I jumped in to save them after he seriously wounded them one day."

But then Noatak realized; having the evil dad was already a real part of his past. Bringing it up would only hurt him; a resurgence of already painful memories. His father couldn't be part of the story. At least, not a surviving part…..

Noatak perfected his story at the same time he perfected his scar. He was a non-bender, like the rest of his family, who owned their own small farm. A barrage of Firebenders attacked and killed his family, leaving him the only survivor, but at a cost; his face was permanently ruined for it.

After all, the world was filled with evil, an evil so pure and widespread that its own victims did not know they were under its influence. Bending. It may not have physically scarred him as Noatak claimed, but it had emotionally scarred him. The bottom line was, bending was ultimately the source of all evil that he had come to face with. He needed the world to see that; it was his duty, as the young man who had finally discovered the true root of evil, to unite the world against it. Only then would the world know true peace and equality. And if that meant his emotional scars would have to be worn as a physical scar instead to gain the support of the world, then so be it.

It was perfect. Things were finally starting to lean in Noatak's favor; people on the street asked him about it and many were nearly reduced to tears by his story.

"Oh, you poor thing," they'd exclaim, offering their love and blessings, occasionally even their homes for the night. Yes, things were finally turning Noatak's way. Sympathy lead to support, he knew that clearly now.

One afternoon, Noatak was traveling on Maiba, heading south in what he hoped was the direction of more organized civilization, when he heard a deep, good-natured sounding voice just into the woods.

"See, Suki?" it asked, "THAT is why I think we should get an ostrich-horse. They're so much better for transportation."

"Sokka," a second voice, much more feminine, replied, "we have no use for an _ostrich-horse_. We live on an_ island_. Everything we need is within walking distance. The only animal I can ever see us using is one that can _swim_ or _fly _for when we go and visit our friends from the rest of the world."

Noatak pulled to a halt. He cared for Maiba, but at the moment he was more interested in gathering money so that he could at least rent a place to live with a roof above. Perhaps he could convince these people to buy his ostrich-horse?

Dismounting the beast, Noatak pulled Maiba towards the voices, which now seemed to be arguing.

"I am telling you, the Warriors would LOVE—Oh, hello," the man said, noticing Noatak's presence.

"See, Suki, HIS mother let him get a-"

The woman put her hand over the man's mouth. "Sokka, please. I am not your mother, and you are not using this poor boy as an excuse for me to buy you an ostrich-horse."

She turned towards Noatak. The woman's facial details were undefined; totally masked by white makeup with red paint above the eyes. She wore a billowy, forest green robe with armor on the torso and lower arms. Tucked in her sash were two folded, gold fans.

"The childlike one is my husband, Sokka," the woman began, "and I am Suki. We are from Kyoshi Island."

Noatak smiled. Kyoshi Island consisted hugely of non-bending warriors. Perhaps if he could turn them to his side he would gain support faster.

"Nice to meet you, madam. I'm Amon. You mentioned you are from Kyoshi, you wouldn't happen to be a Kyoshi Warrior, would you?"

"She's their leader," Sokka said proudly. "And before you ask why we are not there…you _were_ going to, right?"

Noatak shook his head. "No, sir."  
Sokka cleared his throat, embarrassed. "Well….the Kyoshi Warriors are all away from home. A gang of Earthbenders was recently put to justice nearby here, and they are here to make sure none of their supporters break out into a fight."

"Benders…" Noatak grumbled hatefully. "Just like those monsters who took my family."

"Oh no," Suki gasped, "I'm so sorry, Amon, I…"

"Don't be," Noatak pressed, putting on his best sad smile. "I just…I've found life hard as a non-bender with no family or friends left in the world."

Suki put a hand on Noatak's shoulder. "Come with us, young man. We have a boy about your age traveling with us that you can meet. Perhaps his mother will let you live with him," the kindly woman proposed hopefully.

That evening, Noatak arrived at a campground filled with large green tents.

"Her name is Ty Lee," Suki explained, "and she has a son around your age, as I said. Sokka has notified her of your arrival, and she has agreed you take good care of you until we return to Kyoshi Island, where hopefully we can find a permanent home for you, alright?"

Noatak nodded, and determined to play the kind, innocent soul, bowed to Suki. "Thank you, kind woman."

Suki smiled, stepping inside one of the tents. Within a few moments she called Noatak in.

The tent was divided into thirds by hung-up sheets. Noatak, Suki, and a woman with a similar get-up, but with a braid, were gathered in one. The other two, Amon assumed, must be the rooms of this Ty Lee woman and her son.

"Hi, Amon!" a peppy voice chirped the instant Noatak stepped inside. "Suki here told me everything that's happened, and I wanted to extend my home to you…or my tent at least," she added with a chuckle.

"My son's in his room, if you'd like to meet him." Without waiting for a response, she pulled one of the sheets up and ushered Noatak in.

Lying on the floor was a boy his own age, who Noatak immediately knew to be the son of Ty Lee. He was tall and very slender, with a milky complexion to heavily contrast his raven-colored hair. He had the faintest bit of stubble on his upper lip.

"Hello…" Noatak said with a tentativeness that was only semi-authentic. "I…I'm Amon."

The boy sat up wordlessly.

"What's your name?" Noatak asked.

"I'd rather not say," the boy sighed, "but I have a nickname you can call me. Everyone calls me it because when I was young, I used to work really hard to make people proud, but…you don't need a life story." The boy chuckled. His voice was soft and deep, with the slightest hint of gravel to it.

"Anyway, you can call me what everyone else does."

Noatak raised an eyebrow. "And that would be…?"

"Lieutenant."


End file.
